The power of an epic road-trip is one thing. The
power of an epic road-trip with your best friend is another. And even
then, the power of an epic road-trip with your best friend in an iconic
VW van you call a “second home” can be placed
in a category entirely on its own. The ultimate power of journeys, in all of their amazing forms, imparts experiences that aim towards connecting us to our diverse surroundings and, even more heartfelt, to one another.
Those who know me are already very
well acquainted with my views on the importance of travel for the body and soul, both at the individual and societal levels. But contrary to the average working
person’s excuses (financial limitations, timing conflicts, etc) for keeping travel a dream rather than making it a
reality, one doesn’t actually need to fly far, incur great expenses, or be away for
extensive time to experience the same rewarding effects. In the end, the very least you really
need to dive head first into a life-engaging excursion and undergo a personal
transformation are three things: someone who makes you laugh, a sturdy form of transportation, and a mind open to possibilities.
Captain Matt, and I – collectively known as Team
Slug – are not novices in the physically-riveting, mentally-liberating
realm of road-tripping and van life. Our trips over the years in Slug, his 1980 VW Vanagon (and my adopted "house on wheels"), have been multiple and meaningful. Each journey has been an escape that unfolds
not merely along the wandering trail, but also within our wondering minds.
Born with instinctively nomadic hearts, his desire for outward exploration
coupled with my quest for inner discovery have made all of our voyages on the open road as passionate as they are profound. From sights and sounds, to energy and emotion, tapping into a wickedly textured terrain through the treads of our tires has been the connection that brings us closer to Earth as biological entities... and closer to each other as true friends.
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| A wild Slug in its natural habitat |
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| Captain Matt, always with that infectious grin |
One particular road-trip remarkably encapsulated - or more appropriately, captivated - all of the senses that allow us, as sentient beings, to experience Life to its fullest potential. It didn't take place in a foreign locale, although that didn't render it any less exotic. Neither did it cost a fortune, although that certainly didn't depreciate its value. Rather, the trip took place right in our very own backyard of Southern California. From misty mountains to desiccating deserts, we spent three days in April 2015 chugging along the "hippie" trail at the state's southeast corner, past the alien-planet-like Salton Sea and on to the wastelands near Slab City. Cycling along fishy shorelines, squatting with social misfits, and trekking through gorges in search of the perfect apple pie, Matt treated me to a feast for the five senses that flowed together as perfectly as poetry. And for that reason, I was compelled to compose a few quatrains that could immortalize my reflections on living and roaming to the rhythms of an air-cooled engine, lyrical memories that seamlessly wrote themselves throughout the course of our dust bowl adventure.
Hop in the Slug with your friend
most dear,
That time of year and a fresh
frontier,
Push in the clutch, shift into
gear,
Reality left in the rear-view
mirror,
Let’s disappear...
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| This is your Co-Pilot speaking... hope you like Tuareg music! |
See the hues of the sights you
pass,
Brown date palms and green golf
grass,
Turn wastelands of plastic and
colored glass,
A flash of Orange when he kicks the gas.
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| Slug makes the pilgrimage to Mecca.... kinda... |
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| Making the pilgrimage to Salvation Mountain |
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| East Jesus garbage sculpture park by the eccentric residents of Slab City |
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| Lost in a sea of whimsical colors |
Feel the Earth sink beneath your
feet,
Boiling, bubbling, and bursting
with heat,
Return to your childhood, dirty
and sweet,
A muddy dance to your own heart
beat.
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| The six-foot toddler takes a mud bath |
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| Natural mud pools bubbling off the Salton route to Niland |
Smell the winds whose scents
exchange,
From salty fish in a Sea so
strange,
To musty couches down at The
Range,
Or your best friend’s shirt, days
without change.
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| Salton Sea: Site of a biological meltdown where thousands of rotting fish line its shores |
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| A post-apocalyptic bike ride |
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| Smelly old couches and chairs of the hippie-dippie inhabitants of Slab City |
Hear the twang of a guitar’s strings,
Under twinkling stars, the
snowbird sings,
Two buddies share tattered sofa
springs,
As cool rain pours, bike wheels
become wings.
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| Saturday night folk songs by old hippies at Slab City's reconstituted performance venue, The Range |
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| Catching some slightly off-key, but pure Americana tunes at dusk |
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| The night bike ride witnessed an alien crash site in the middle of nowhere |
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| Got caught in a surprise desert downpour, but still managed to cook a soggy dinner |
Taste the crunch of a tart apple
pie,
In a Julian shop of flavors to
try,
From gorges and deserts, you roll
on by,
To gorge on desserts, and get sugar
high.
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| Bidding farewell to the off-grid village of Slab City |
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| Slug makes it through the searing and desolate valley of Anza Borrego towards the town of Julian |
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| Exploring a slot canyon along the way |
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| Finally getting some fresh apple pie! |
Sneak past the gate without a
sound,
A moonlit night, a secret camp
ground,
You once were lost, but now you’re
found,
Beneath Brother’s arm, may bliss abound.
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| On our way above the clouds to a secluded campsite on Mt. Palomar |
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| That fading August sun |
Free to face a world of extremes,
Beside your hero on a trip of
dreams,
“Is this real?”, your ecstatic
soul screams,
Pinch yourself, is all what it
seems?
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| Because no Slug trip is complete without a little engine trouble as the worst possible time |
Inspite of my own extensive travels via an array of transportation, it wasn't until I met Matt that I learned about the underappreciated concept of "van life". Traveling around and living out of your vehicle doesn't always capture the brightest side of public interest, where many are quick to associate all forms of nomadism with financial poverty. But not all who wander are lost. And just as a road-trip can be done humbly or lavishly by people from all walks of life, van life likewise exhibits a variety and versatility that doesn't always have to be an affront to what is socially acceptable. Nevertheless, in a country where many people isolate themselves at home, relying on television as their sole portal to the world outside, I can't help but question whether simple, yet active living on the open road is really worse than the socio-cultural poverty we witness on a national scale.
Regardless of how it's done, all road-trips and van living embody a fundamental idea that is an inherent attribute of travel - freedom. The style may not be suitable for everyone, but the concept cannot be denied its universal sense of appeal. Van life is a raw, yet palatable existence that draws upon mankind's primordial instinct to migrate and find coexistence with the natural world. Each road-trip can be likened to the passing of a miniature lifespan, a finite period that is born and dies with the motions of a gas pedal, all the while creating and cultivating infinite memories that testify to the resilience of the human condition.